Desolation: Keep Your Imaginary Friends Close

By D Harrigon

More monsters. More violence. More twists.

Stealing the biggest boat in the colony is a difficult task. It's easier with friends. Hetch finds herself with a cabal of helpers she didn't ask for, but desperately needs. Getting to Landing Site One now seems tantalisingly within reach. But who exactly is getting on the boat?

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Dawkins
• Release date: Nov 17, 2025
• ISBN: 9781764116619

Book preview

Desolation

Desolation

D Harrigon

image-placeholder

Copyright © 2025 by David Dawkins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Printing, 2025

Contents

Book Two

Nzinga

Cantrelle

Matilda

Esmeralda

Prisoner

Captain

Interlude

Terry

About the Author

Other books by this author

Book Two

Keep Your Imaginary Friends Close

1

Nzinga

She wasn't going to make it to the bridge in time. The wagon-train's lonesome whistle howled its final call. Nzinga hurried down the abandoned cobbled road between the ruins, juggling an armful of discoveries.

Precious steel.

With the entire village crumbling around her, Nzinga's rush through the streets became desperately hazardous. Slippery moss carpeted broken cobbles and draped in layers over fallen stonework. Green and purple vines hung from the collapsed buildings to hamper her path.

Hugging her awkward load, Nzinga called out to the land-train. The other two steam engines huffed merrily on their way, distant now, dragging their carriages along the overgrown road to Twingehampton.

The final train began rolling.

Too late!

She staggered into a spine-wood-reinforced concrete wall and came away with one arm covered in soot. The village at Pit Five showed extensive charring. A swarm attack. The damage was mostly from the fire set by the humans at the perimeter, too late to save the village. Embers blew into houses and halls, razed every structure. The fire entered the mines, burning supports, causing a massive collapse. The sunken scar ran from under the east end and out into the jungle. The swarm of giant insects devoured any who remained.

Within a week, vines and mosses flowed into the village. Within six months, the foliage chittered and screeched at Nzinga as she ran with her salvage. And run she must. Not from the little crustaceans and insects now scurrying about the blackened, brightly-painted halls, houses, and huts. Critters came with the jungle. Monsters came for the critters.

The last of the three wagon-trains stuttered in its departure as someone caught her cries, or spotted her sprinting figure among the ruins.

Merry insults rose from the wagon. Arms waved in encouragement. Nzinga scurried over the bridge. Softening weave-wood creaked ominously.

Hey! Don't leave without me!

Those already seated, yelled jovially.

Get on the wagon, sweetie!

Nah, not good enough!

Go back for more!

A strong woman with a strong nose jumped down and untied a corner of the tarpaulin covering the rear trailer.

What in the seven pits kept you?

Got these. Got these, Nzinga gasped, shrugging to show her precious, weighty load as she jogged up to the weed-infested gravel road.

Alright, girl. Get your breath. Show me. Quick now.

The Palace at Muha-Maho collected most of the equipment when the pit failed. The crane, tools, steel wheels and frames from the weave-wood wagons. There remained enough to justify a scavenger run. Nzinga prayed the quality of her haul would shake any suspicion.

Even after rehearsing this a thousand times, she still had to pause and settle her nerves. The woman standing before her had a kindly expression, but with urgency and annoyance waiting. Shifting everything into one straining arm, Nzinga pulled out her prizes.

Found a scrap-heap up the back, there. Got these, broken pick-axe heads. Two of them. Bit rusted but still plenty of good steel there. Likewise, these bits of- I think they might have been pry bars?

Hardly worth getting eaten over. What were you doing all the way back there? Which wagon-?

Wait, wait! Nzinga unwrapped the prizewinners. And these. Copper bars. Two of them. Wrapped in oil cloth. Cursed heavy things. There's only a couple of spots of oxidation on 'em.

Oh, that's amazing!

Whistles and congratulations from the bench-carriage.

Spotted the oil cloth half buried by a wall, Nzinga continued. Took me ages to dig it out. Someone's secret stash, by the looks of it.

Great job! What was your name again?

Oh, Matilda, Nzinga lied. I was on one of the other carriages coming out. But looks like they left without me.

Daughters of the Iron Drum climbed onto each of the other two wagons with similar treasures and rehearsed stories. As the first train pulled out, Organa emerged from behind a shed farther up the road, joining the carriage there with a couple of broken traction gears. Inari ran up to the second engine with some nice bits of coated steel sheeting, complaining she'd missed the first train. No one was suspicious of Nzinga doing the same with the third. It looked as though all three Daughters would be able to infiltrate from the Hamptons.

Nzinga had to remember to get off before the train turned up towards the smelter at the Twinge Copper Mine. Spies reported this as a common drop-off point for passengers to walk back to the village. Others would dismount there, too; those that didn't want extra credit for the unloading. The uncertainty of numbers should ensure that three more women would easily get lost in the shuffle.

That's the protocol, girl, said the tough-looking woman. You're not back on time, we assume you're going to catch another train. Or we assume the worst. Speaking of, we need to get out of here. Larger beasties closing in.

Nzinga glanced back. A rustling in the jungle, bushes waving as various monsters scurried down to this potential food source. Nice, soft, juicy humans. No hard shell.

Local wildlife, large and small, quickly developed a taste for human flesh after the collapse of Landing Site One and its high-tech fence.

The woman gestured to the bench-carriage she'd vacated. You can squeeze in at the back. I'll go up with the driver.

Nzinga made her way to the last seat on the left side. Long benches ran down the middle of the carriage. The passengers sat back to back, facing outwards to watch the jungle for dangers.

Rear spot? said Nzinga. Luminous. What was your name?

The woman climbed onto the hushing traction engine. Suz Isla. These are my Island girls.

Oh, another Isla.

Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. The girl you're sitting next to is also called Isla.

Ha!

Okay, Vee, said the suzerain to the driver. Let's get out of this cursed pit.

Um, sure, said the driver, who apparently just went by the letter V. Hugo's got the pull but I's dropped him down, like, two ratios. We's gonna to be slow pickin' up.

It's a great haul. So as long as we're back by nightfall, all good.

Haul's the problem. Too much weight.

Nzinga turned to the other Isla, a lanky girl, on the scrawny side, like most itinerants. Her demeanour seemed pleasant enough.

Hugo? Nzinga asked. She named her engine after a man?

Isla whispered, Yeah. Veva's a bit weird but she's built a fantastic machine.

Hey! called Veva, the driver, who apparently went by a shortened version of her name, which sounded like the letter V. I ain't hearin' what yer mutterin' about back there but Hugo can! He's real sensitive. Be nice.

I was praising him, honest, said the other Isla. Smaller, streamlined, more powerful. Hasn't overheated and melted his gaskets today.

That were one time! Like, weeks ago! He's much better now. Veva patted the steering wheel soothingly.

The train jerked into motion.

So, cool find! said the other Isla to Nzinga. Matilda, right?

Uh, yeah.

Matilda the cool. Matilda the cool! Literary Matilda?

Literary? Er, no. Waltzing. I've got some Australian in my ancestry.

We've all got everything in our ancestry, girl, one of the other scavengers called out.

Yeah, you more than most, Kitty! the other Isla returned. Various insults and generalisations were thrown around, the girls all laughing together after a hard day's work.

The banter washed over Nzinga as she strapped herself in. This was the kind of back and forth to be expected from people who worked physically with each other. The insults meant nothing, the laughter wasn't mean.

A clunk and stutter from the engine as it changed ratios, then puffed up to speed. Certainly, plenty of torque from Hugo. Wheels rumbled. The spears and other weapons strapped into the roof of the passenger carriage rattled and rang. The whole train creaked and groaned as it chuffed along the sunken road.

The girls closest to the engine held cloth-covered baskets in their laps. One trick Nzinga learned: if you want to ask a question without giving away that you don't know the answer, make fun of the thing and hope someone defended it with an explanation. She nudged the other Isla. They look like they've been picking mushrooms.

Ha! Yeah. We'll all be eating coal in a minute.

Charcoal. Right. To fuel the traction engine. Probably stored in the payload wagon on the way down then taken out to make room for the load. The girls would hold it on their laps and hand it to Veva to stoke Hugo's fire on the way back. Clever.

Water to refill the boiler probably came from the stream she'd crossed on the bridge, pumped in while they gathered.

Y'ain't got nothing to worry after, girls! called the engineer. Hugo's got himself a double burnin' system. More heat, less smoke!

Sure enough, only a little soot from Hugo's tall chimney drifted into the passenger carriage. Occasional gusts and billows wafted more under the woven roof. Nzinga followed the example of the other girls and lifted her scarf over her face. Anonymity was a bonus.

One day, the other Isla commented. I'd like to ride like a Qualifier! That'd be something. Enclosed carriage, sugared nuts, and padded seats. No smoke at all.

I've seen pushing engines, too, said Nzinga, remembering her childhood. The Daughters wasted no effort on things such as steam engines. They had other priorities. You sit at the front. All the smoke goes out the back.

Stars! We should totally do that next time! Hey! Veva!

I heard! called Veva. Problem with that. Unless yer on rails, ya gotta add complex steerin' to the carriage in front. In a free-train like this? The engineer shook her head. Too much effort.

Are you saying Hugo couldn't handle it?

Are you sayin' you'd like to climb off and walk?

The other Isla laughed, as did many of the girls. A cheerful lot. Nzinga hid a wince of regret. Her mission would ultimately lead to the destruction of this entire colony. Those that could be saved would join the Daughters. Those that insisted on turning paradise into a nightmare would suffer the consequences of their hubris.

Mistake after mistake led to this horror show of toil and unnecessary longing. It could not have gone worse if someone had planned it.

As the train rocked along, Nzinga idly ran her fingers over the flowered inlay running up the rear roof support. The bitterness of her mission rose. These poor, deluded girls. Taught to hope for a future that would never come. Taught to pine for worlds they would never see.

No flowers grew here. They existed only in old films and pictures. Yet, these delusions of longing infected every part of this colony. They painted flowers and trees everywhere, carved them on every surface. None of them native to this world.

There was so much beauty here. Now.

Nzinga looked out over the rolling hills of moss, with forests of spine-wood and sky-ferns, fields of fungi and low bushes. The various yellows, greens, splashes of purple and orange, contrasted with the stark greys and blacks of the rocks that broke through the vegetation giving the scene its weight and presence.

Stunning in the afternoon sun.

The Daughters were determined to live here. Now. Not wasting time and energy striving to achieve an impossible goal, longing for a half-remembered past.

The road curved around a small lake, glimpsed in glittering shimmers through the tall vegetation. They reached a point where the spine-reed grew thick and close to the path. The stuff would grow back inside a week after it was cleared. They only hacked a passage through when they needed to use these forgotten roads.

A particularly eager frond extended from the forest at about head height for the seated girls. Most of them leaned back, avoiding, bumping heads with the women seated behind them.

One girl, there was always one, reached out and carefully ran her hand along the sharp edges of the leaves, showing off that she knew how to do this without getting cut.

She could become a Daughter.

Lanky Okaria was the girl who always did this when Nzinga was growing up. Nasty girl with ideas above her station, Okaria. Nzinga wondered what happened to